It's Gonna Be Love
by FloatingAmoeba
Summary: Written for the Chit Chat on Author's Corner Fanfic Challenge 2010. After a tough case sends Aaron to the edge of the deep end, JJ throws him a life-line...and gets a second chance at happiness in return. Co-authored with flashpenguin.


A/N This is my entry for Round Four of ilovetvalot's Fanfic Challenge 2010. The prompt I was given was Characters A + B have a heart to heart in a bar. So this is by far one of my favorite oneshots, and I'm afraid that's all it's going to be right now. Maybe somewhere down the line, we'll write a follow-up, but for now this is all you're getting!

Special thanks to my co-writer and beta **flashpenguin** - she's absolutely amazing, and everybody should go and check out her stories because that's the least she deserves for all the help she's given me! I said I'd try and get her a big neon flashy sign directing all the readers to her profile - this is it. BIG NEON FLASHY SIGN.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to, I don't own Criminal Minds. Or Jim Beam. Title and lyrics by Mandy Moore.

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**_the sooner you let two hearts beat together; the sooner you'll know this love is forever_**

As the bartender filled his glass for the fourth time, Hotch nodded his thanks. The amber liquid slid smoothly down his throat, the burn of whisky soothing in the smoky bar.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blonde hair, then a gentle hand closed around his wrist, forcing the glass back to the bar top. Hotch sighed heavily – couldn't he even get drunk in peace?

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" He asked wearily.

JJ eased herself onto the stool beside him. "Nope," she said simply. Seeing a new customer amongst the few miserable suits, the man behind the counter moved back towards them.

"What can I get you?"

"Jim Beam, on the rocks," JJ replied quickly, flashing a brief smile. Hotch thought she seemed far too cheerful, but in comparison to him, he figured, Norman Bates was practically ecstatic.

"Thanks," JJ replied as her drink was set down before her. They were silent, both of them sitting at the bar, soaking up the dull background noise. Every bar had it - this one was no exception.

"So what are you doing?" It wasn't a question, because they both knew the answer, but sometimes it didn't hurt to throw out something generic to gauge a response.

"Celebrating the closed case," he muttered in reply and reached for his glass.

JJ arched an eyebrow. "Sarcasm doesn't fit you. Looks to me like you're getting drunk."

"Says the woman who just ordered straight bourbon whisky."

"So what is it that's got you drowning your sorrows?" JJ prompted gently, ignoring the jibe at her drink. Once again, he took a while to reply, staring ahead.

"It was the father. Thomas Connell killed his son."

"Yes," JJ agreed. Hotch shook his head, his voice disappearing into the bottom of the glass.

"I didn't know."

"No."

"_You_ knew," he pointed out. JJ shrugged.

"I'm not wearing blinders." He turned his head towards her, and JJ elaborated. "You're a father. You have Jack. It's hard to imagine a father killing his son, just like it's hard for me to understand how a mother can kill her child. But we know it happens."

"Exactly," Hotch said, "We _know_ it happens. I just...I don't know why I didn't see it."

JJ nodded her understanding, the dim lights of the bar casting shadows over her face. Hotch sat in silence as the events of the case replayed in his head.

"It was nothing you did or didn't see, Hotch. Rossi missed it, so did Morgan. Connell was good. He had the right amount of fear and anxiety and cried at all the right places. If he hadn't been a killer, the man could have won an Oscar for his performance."

"But I should have seen it."

"If you had, it wouldn't have changed the outcome. The little boy would still be dead. The only difference is that we would have caught his scumbag father a few days sooner. But there is nothing you could have seen that would have prevented this."

Hotch sighed and downed his drink. "I know. That's why it's killing me."

She turned on the stool to face him, one of her hands leaving her glass to rest over his as she attempted to broach the real issue.

"So how are you holding up?"

Watching her face, Hotch swallowed as he tried to choose his words carefully. "Why didn't you tell me when Will left?" he asked. JJ hesitated, an answer hanging ready on her lips.

"I asked first," she admonished instead.

Hotch groaned, stuffing a handful of peanuts into his mouth. He let his eyes close, breathing in the soft honey smell that was intoxicating.

Maybe if he didn't answer, she'd go away. Maybe she'd realize that he wasn't worth her time, wasn't good enough for her, and she'd leave him to suffer alone.

He almost laughed out loud – like _that_ was ever going to happen.

Hoping that she had given up and left, Hotch slowly opened his eyes, swearing softly when he saw she was still waiting patiently beside him.

He sighed.

"I keep thinking I'm not enough. For Jack," he admitted reluctantly, his voice barely audible over the noise in the bar.

"Has he ever told you that?"

"No."

"Then why think it?" she replied gently, "Hotch, you're an amazing father. We can all see that. And I think Jack knows it too."

He shook his head. "How can I protect him if I couldn't find the killer right underneath my nose?"

This time, JJ did not have an answer. She knew, better than anybody else on their team, the lengths a parent would go to for their child – she'd even done it. She had broken protocol that one time, only to have fate throw her answer machine right back at her.

"This isn't about protecting Jack; this is about your ability to protect other Jacks. Every kid you look at reminds you of Jack. You see that vulnerable child, you see yourself, and it dawns on you that you can only do so much to help and protect, and it hurts. So even when you catch the bad guy, if there is a child involved you think you failed, and you're afraid that Jack is going to find out and end up hating you." JJ fell silent, until she added, "I know, because I feel the same about Henry."

"And the more we try, the more we fall short," Hotch stated quietly.

"Or we fail at other things." JJ sipped her drink. "Like relationships."

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Will had broken up?" Hotch repeated.

"Because I didn't want pity - yours or anyone else's."

"I understand. But I would have liked to have been there for you."

"Bullshit, Aaron. You aren't hurt that Will and I broke up; you're hurt that I didn't tell you."

Hotch watched her face. "What do you mean?"

JJ narrowed her eyes, the deep blue orbs fixing him with a frustrated stare.

"You made it perfectly clear that you didn't like Will. Ever since New York," she said stubbornly, "For some reason you thought he was wrong for me."

Hotch flinched, wondering when he became so see thru. But she was right – Will _had _been wrong for her.

"I never...didn't not like him," he muttered. JJ chuckled at his slurred reply.

"Right. You just found him annoying."

"He _is _annoying. His accent, at least." And his ability to charm JJ in ways Hotch never could. The man had been the original snake oil salesman, and all he could do was stand by and watch as the woman he loved fell for an act.

JJ rolled her eyes and smiled, sliding down from the barstool.

"Come on," she said, offering her hand, "I'll take you home."

"I can't stay here and find some nice lady to have one night of drunken sex with?"

JJ laughed as the slurred words left his lips. "No, Hotch." He was making a joke - there was hope for him after all.

He struggled off the stool, and in the process, ended up far closer to her than he probably should have been. His breath caught, his hazy gaze fixed on her face. JJ's smile faded, the cool edge of the bar pressing against her back.

"Wow," he breathed, "You're really beautiful."

"What?" she replied stupidly. Hotch lifted a hand to her face, dragging one finger down the line of her jaw.

"I said," he repeated slowly, "that you're..."

"I heard what you said." Her heart was pounding in her ears, urging her to act on a whim that would cause nothing but trouble.

"You don't believe me." Hotch's tone was full of hurt.

"Answer a question first: what's the real reason you didn't like Will?"

Hotch swallowed. "I didn't not like Will because he was annoying," he said, "I didn't like Will because I was _jealous_."

She stared at him, and in a futile attempt to put some space between them, tried to slide out of his arms. Hotch blocked her path, faltering slightly in his drunken state.

"I want you," he added, his voice only slightly slurred, "I want to hold you, and I want to kiss you, and I want to lo..."

"Don't say it," she whispered and placed a finger against his lips to stop the flow of words. He leaned closer, and as his nose brushed against hers, JJ fought to keep her eyes open.

"Why not?" he replied just as softly.

"Because when you wake up in the morning, you'll think this was a mistake, and you'll regret it."

His lips ghosted over hers, so softly JJ wasn't sure if she'd imagined the taste of whisky mixing with bourbon on her lips.

"I won't..."

Using the last remnants of strength lingering in her legs, JJ stepped back, her hand pressed against his chest.

"Listen to me," she said gently, "If you wake up tomorrow, and you can remember me walking away, and you can remember me promising that this isn't a 'no', then come see me. But we can't do this _now_."

Hotch caressed her cheek so softly, so lovingly, JJ almost wanted to change her mind. How many years had she dreamt of this moment? Wanting him to touch her? Speak those words to her?

And now here it was, and he was drunk. Once again, she had to do the right thing and walk away.

But first, she had to get him back to his home and in bed - she never thought she'd put those two words in the same sentence with Aaron Hotchner and her.

It took everything she had to get him out to the car and back to his apartment. Funny how Hotch didn't look huge until she had to carry him up four flights of stairs.

"Don't make it easy or anything," she muttered breathlessly as they finally made it to his apartment. Digging in his pants pocket for the key ring, JJ inserted the key and turned the lock.

Barely managing to keep him upright, JJ guided him around the furniture, finding her way down the hall to what she assumed was his bedroom.

She all but dropped him to the bed, chuckling quietly at his low groan. Moving his legs so she could safely undo his belt – it was uncomfortable, she reasoned, and she did not want him suffering – JJ quickly pulled off his socks and shoes.

"You're gonna have one hell of a headache," she whispered, automatically smoothing his dark hair away from his eyes.

Hotch caught her hand and pressed it to his lips. Soft as a feather and more sensual than anything she could have ever dreamed. She could barely breathe.

"JJ..." he mumbled, his fingertips rough against the smoothness of her skin.

"Yeah, Hotch?" she replied softly, knowing that he was seconds away from being asleep.

"Thank you for not saying 'no'."

JJ smiled as his eyes closed to the world, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Anytime."

* * *

Sitting at her desk going over files, JJ nearly jumped when the phone on her desk rang. Picking up the receiver, she held it between her ear and shoulder while trying to organize some papers.

"Agent Jareau speaking."

"I don't think it was fair that you walked away without giving me a chance to kiss you and hold you."

JJ swallowed hard, the flutters flaring up in her stomach as though they'd never really stopped. "Hotch?"

"I am holding you to your promise that you didn't say 'no'. My place, tonight, eight o'clock. And this time, when you take my belt and shoes off, the rest of my clothing is following."

Then silence.

JJ listened to the dial tone for a full minute before hanging up. A satisfied smirk tugged at her lips before growing into a full-fledged smile.

"Eight o'clock it is."

_**if I'm asking you to hold me tight; then it's gonna be all right**_


End file.
